Movie notes: Being a paperboy wasn’t like ‘The Paperboy’

As the title character in the steamy indie drama “The Paperboy,” former teen idol Zac Efron runs around in his underwear a lot while lusting after a honey-blond, smokin’ hot sexpot played by Nicole Kidman in swampy south Florida in 1969.

Actually, thinking back on my experiences as a paperboy, I can relate to some of that description. Well, exactly two things — Zac and I both delivered newspapers, and we did it in 1969.

After that, not so much.

Written and directed by Lee Daniels, who gave us the Oscar-nominated “Precious” in 2009, “The Paperboy” opened last Friday at the Santikos Bijou (and will stick around at least through next week, the Santikos folks said). Efron plays a 20-year-old ex-high school stud athlete who’s back home in his small town after being kicked out of college. He’s delivering papers and marking time, waiting to get on with his life.

Meanwhile, two Miami reporters (Matthew McConaughey and David Oyelowo) come down in search of a story. John Cusack is on Death Row for the murder of the town sheriff; McConaughey, who happens to be Zac’s older brother, thinks Cusack was wrongly convicted. Kidman is around because she’s engaged to Cusack, although they’ve never met. Their relationship has been strictly through the mail.

“… Some viewers hooted and complained a movie in such bad taste shouldn’t have been shown in the French temple of film art,” he noted. “I have news for them. If this film had been in good taste, THAT would have been in bad taste.”

Ebert gave it three stars. Other critics haven’t been as kind. “The Paperboy” has a 37 Tomatometer score and a 51 audience rating, which is pretty low. The consensus: “Trashy and melodramatic, ‘The Paperboy’ is enlivened by a strong cast and a steamy, sordid plot, but it’s uneven and often veers into camp.”

I haven’t seen it, but I have issues, too. Mainly, it sounds like a pretty inaccurate depiction of such a noble, under-appreciated profession. Since I spent three years pitching the Dallas Morning News onto dark porches (and once, through a window), I should know. A few of my complaints:

1. At 20, Zac would be young for a 21st century paperboy, but he’s way too old to be a paperboy in 1969. Most of the young ruffians I slung papers with were middle-school or early high-school age.

2. I never ever saw anyone remotely resembling Nicole Kidman on my route. Although there was that one cute older girl on Aldwick Drive …

3. Our cast of characters was far less colorful. Instead of handsome Hollywood types, we were a bunch of scruffy teens hanging out in the dark at a shopping center, waiting for the delivery truck. Sorta like a slightly upgraded version of “Oliver Twist.”

4. And for the record, the proper term isn’t “paperboy.” It’s “carrier salesman.” We were independent contractors on bikes who bought the papers and resold them at a slightly higher rate — and then spent most of our money at the nearby doughnut shop that opened at 5 a.m.

5. No one in his right mind would run up to a house in the dark in his underwear. That’s a good way to get shot.

Speaking of skivvies, for some reason that reminds me of one of the coldest days I’ve ever experienced — the January morning in which getting to the drop zone involved a bike ride into a 30 mph headwind in 15-degree weather. The wind chill had to be well below zero. The ride was only a mile and a half, but it felt like a stage of the Tour de France.